


Oathbound

by Thalius



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Slow Burn, botw au, mild s7 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 19:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15444393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thalius/pseuds/Thalius
Summary: Shiro and Allura both have their duties to fulfill. Neither of them have figured out how to do that just yet.





	Oathbound

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a shallura drabble prompt event, but it got waaay out of hand so I'm posting it on its own. I am so very, very obsessed with zelda AUs for this pairing.

_Omens were for children and witches,_  her mother had always told her. And even if she hadn't, Allura knew this intimately well, perhaps far more than was healthy. If the Goddess had suddenly decided to start sending her prophetic signs after a  _lifetime_  of silence, she was confident that She wouldn't start with the weather.

But if Allura were either a witch or child—which she wasn't—she would swear the torrential, icy rain that had appeared without warning was one such a sign. And not a good omen, either.

The unending water pouring from the skies made it almost impossible to see anything further than a few steps in front of her. The road was the only constant that she could rely on leading them forward, and even then the rain was churning it into a thick, soupy mess. Her horse knickered at her, clearly as unsettled as she was by the awful weather. There were no booms of thunder or flashes of lightning yet, at least.

_Yet._

She was riding close enough to Shiro that she could reach out and grab a fistful of his cloak. She couldn't see his face, obscured by his heavy—and now drenched—hood, but he was starting to look a little unsteady in his saddle. "Still with me?" she called, having to yell just to be heard above the rainfall.

She heard him speak but didn't catch the words. His head dipped in a nod, though, so she turned back to face in front of her. He'd swear on his deathbed that he was fine, so that wasn't much to go by, but he hadn't fallen off his horse yet.

_Yet._

The sky had begun to rumble by the time she'd found a potential place to rest; the outline of a massive erratic lay out in the fields, its far side surrounded by the frame of a house. The bulbous, mossy top stood out clearly against the flat plains of the Torin wetlands like some sort of earthly lighthouse. She guided her horse towards it immediately, and took Shiro's own reins to nudge his mare in the same direction. She was well trained enough that she didn't need much prodding to follow Allura, and Shiro was either too weak or too dizzy to do anything but let her lead.

She rode them both close enough to get a better look at the house. It looked like a proper cabin, with a stone chimney and glass windows, and the frame of an old stable stood beside it. It was definitely worse for wear, but it was hardly the time to be picky about ports in a very heavy,  _very_  cold storm.

"Stay," Shiro ordered, moving his cloak away from his leg to slide off of his horse. She grabbed at his left arm to stop him.

"I see no smoke," she said. "And the grass in front of the door is untrampled. We are safe to proceed."

"I still need to clear the cabin before you enter, Princess."

His words sounded slurred. She wanted to shove him to make a point that he was in no fit state to do such a thing, but she was afraid any force would send him tumbling off his horse.

She gave her head a short, sharp shake instead. "No."

Shiro ignored her and began unbuckling his sword from his pack. She jumped down off her own horse while he did that and walked up to his mare. One of her hands reached beneath his cloak and easily found his belt; an excellent hand-hold.

"I can get down." His words were barely audible above the rain.

"I'm sure you can," she replied, knowing full well that was a lie. "I'm helping you anyway."

"I'm not—"

She hoisted his far leg up over the back of his horse to join his other, side-saddling his mare. Her other hand found his belt and tugged him carefully towards her.

"Princess—"

"Shush. Jump down."

He didn't really have a choice. Her arms encircled his waist as he fell straight into her, but she took his weight easily. A terrible part of her registered that he was much lighter with only one arm, and banished the thought immediately.

She let him get his footing once he was off his horse. His good hand—his  _only_  hand—clutched at her shoulder, despite how much she knew he loathed the need for a support. She kept a hold of him until the dizziness she knew he felt passed.

"I need to go inside first," he said. His voice was rasping and thin, and when she pulled back to look him in the face, she saw the bone-white colour of his skin. Fear pierced her low in the belly, and she looked toward the cabin so that she didn't have to see how sunken his cheeks looked.

"I did not drag you this far north to have you be cut down by some hooligan in a cabin," she murmured, forcing a light tone. "Who I am positive is not in there anyway."

"And if I am," he replied. "You can return straight to the Castle and continue working on the Lions. They need you."

She was not about to have this conversation in the middle of a monsoon. "Not without you," she said, making a lateral cutting motion with her hand that signalled they would not be discussing this right now. "Come, out of this rain." She grabbed his sword for him and pulled him along by his arm. He wasn't strong enough to outpace her, but he at least kept up without stumbling. His lack of resistance only terrified her further.

When they reached the front door of the cabin, she banged the pommel of his sword against it with more force than was necessary. "Hello!" she called, continuing to bang. "Anyone in there?"

She didn't wait long for an answer. The door had no latch lock on it, and it opened easily enough when she pushed through. It was entirely dark inside, the windows covered by heavy curtains. She could only see the vague outlines of furniture even when she focused her vision; more importantly, she saw no people. No hooligans, either.

Good. She wouldn't have to kick anyone out.

Allura walked them to the wall of the cabin that was part of the boulder and leaned Shiro down against it, not interested in testing if the wood panelling would take his weight. She set his sword down beside him and knelt by his side. With the door open, there was just enough dim, grey light from outside to see more clearly. She saw the frame of an old bed in the corner, and some chairs huddled around a table on the other side of the room. A cupboard stood open and empty beside the fireplace, but the only sign of someone keeping up with the place were a few buckets situated under the more egregious leaks in the roof.

"We are safe," she whispered to him. His eyes swivelled towards her from beneath his soaked hood. Unfettered agony burned in them, but the distant look on his face scared her far more.

"The hearth on the north wall," he rasped, then paused to wet his lips. "It's still warm. I can see embers."

She looked over her shoulder at the fireplace and saw a faint orange glow. "Well, whoever was here is gone now."

"Check—" He cut himself off with a cough that rattled his chest, and she gave him a sharp look.

"If you catch the flu I  _will_  beat you," she warned him.

The ghost of a smile flashed on his mouth, but he was too exhausted to maintain it. "I'll keep that in mind. Check under the rugs," he added, continuing his previous train of thought. "For hideaways."

She did as he ordered, kicking up any fabric lying on the ground. She'd watched him clear shelters often enough to remember the way he stood on the boards to test for hiding space below, but the creaks they made all sounded the same to her. Shiro simply watched her as she moved about the cabin, and she took his silence as affirmation that they were indeed alone. No matter what state he was in, he would speak up if he saw or heard something suspicious.

Allura pulled any rugs that weren't too wet from the leaks and bunched them on the floor around Shiro. It was hardly a feather down, but, well. Ports in storms and all that. "I'm just going to settle the horses," she told him, stopping just before the door. "Don't move."

The poor joke actually got a weak chuckle out of him. She smiled to herself as she ducked outside to pull their horses in under the lean-to stable beside the cabin. It was in much worse shape than the house, but it was safer than leaving them outside or under a tree, and there was no way they'd fit through the cabin door. She fed them both a few carrots and gave their noses a good rubbing, hoping that would be apology enough for such poor lodgings. When she was confident they were as comfortable and safe as she could make them, she retrieved both of their packs and ran back inside the cabin.

As promised, Shiro was still exactly where she'd left him. She set their packs down and went to the hearth to stoke the embers back into a proper fire. The previous inhabitants had graciously left enough unburnt wood that lighting it wasn't much of an issue. Perhaps they'd somehow seen the sign of this storm and moved along to sturdier lodgings.

_Perhaps they were running._

She shoved that aside. Now was not the time to conjure up demons inside her head. There were enough roaming the lands of Altea, but none of them were  _here._  She had far more pressing concerns to deal with, anyway.

At that, she turned back to Shiro. The fire provided some light, at least. Enough to see by, so she didn't bother to pull back the fabric covering the two small windows in the cabin. Not that they would provide much more light; the clouds were so thick and dark that it was impossible to tell where the sun was in the sky. She thought it was early evening, but that was only a guess. She loathed wasting so much time sitting in one place, but Shiro fared the ride poorly enough in good weather. It wouldn't matter how quickly they reached the lab if he died from exposure on the way there.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. That would not happen. Sam would have something to replace his arm, and they'd stay at the lab long enough for him to recover properly. It would  _work._  It had to.

The sound of rustling brought her out of the mental spiral she was heading down. Shiro was unbuckling the clasp of his cloak, and he'd pushed back his hood. It was warm and waterproof, as was hers, but that didn't mean it was comfortable to sit or lie in.

Allura moved back to him to lend a hand. They got him out of it without much fuss, and she hung it over a chair in front of the fire, along with hers. Out of the wrappings of his cloak, she winced at how thin he looked. The shock of white hair falling in front of his face that hadn't been there before only made his skin look more pale, and the angry, red gash across his nose didn't help either. He was leaning heavily against his left arm, and his brows were knotted in concentration. He looked like a proper mess, but she kept that observation to herself. She was sure he was well aware of that already.

Allura retrieved new strips of gauze and the balm she'd purchased from Arus from her pack. The tin was worryingly light, and at the pace they were setting she was starting to wonder if they'd have enough to last the rest of the journey.

"The bandage'll last another night," Shiro said. All of his words came out whispered, and the hard beat of the rain on the roof forced her to focus all of her energy on listening to him.

"I just want to check." She untied his right shirtsleeve and rolled it up to his bicep, a few inches above the stump. He let out a sharp breath at the movement but said nothing, only closing his eyes and leaning his head against the rock.

The lack of red mottling the gauze made her shoulders sag in relief. She'd been terrified that the stitches were still bleeding. His cloak had managed to keep the rain off of it, too, so the bandages were still dry.

"It looks good," she said, her eyes flicking up to his face. "A lot better than I thought."

"Can feel—feel a spasm coming on," he told her, not opening his eyes. "Can you—"

His words died but she knew what he was asking. She fished out a pill from a side pouch at his belt and fed it to him with some water. He got it down with a wince, but he nodded his thanks to her.

"We'll need to get food in you," she said, standing up. He let the canteen rest between his legs, keeping his left arm free to maintain balance. She knew his new centre of mass would take some getting used to, but hopefully that wouldn't be for long.

"Just need to rest," he mumbled. "Not hungry."

"Nonsense." She dug around for the food in her pack, praying that the bread hadn't turned to mush in the rain. Water had a nasty habit of sneaking through even the best leather.

"Princess—"

"I mean it."

"So do I." His voice raised to an almost normal volume, making her pause to look up at him. His eyes were open and filled with an intensity she thought he was too exhausted to be capable of right now. "I'm not going to die and leave you out here alone."

"Because I'm not going to let you," she responded. "Despite how absolutely pigheaded you are being."

His mouth twitched, and some of the intensity left his eyes. "It's my job."

"And you are performing wonderfully. Now let me do mine."

To his credit, he had the grace to be quiet while she heated their dinner at the hearth. The only noise he made was a few tight-lipped groans as a wave of spasms rolled through his body. She let him deal with the episode in peace. The knowledge of how much he hated been doted on outweighed her desire to hold him through it. And, well, they weren't really there yet, anyway. So she stirred their soup and kept her distance until he let out a shuddering exhale and slumped against the rock wall after the worst of it was over.

Despite his assertions that he wasn't hungry, the smell of hot food seemed to lift his spirits. She dragged a chair over and set it over his legs, providing him a small table to eat off of. He gave her a grateful look and gave his meal a few cautious pokes with his spoon. Allura inhaled her own dinner in an entirely un-princess-like fashion. She only noticed Shiro staring after she'd shoved a sizeable chunk of crusty loaf into her mouth, and she muffled a " _wha?"_  at him.

"Maybe I'll wear your crown and you can have my scabbard," he said, amused.

She got the bread down and chased it with some water, shrugging. "Might do some good. The Goddess talks to you more than me, anyway." She reached over and tugged at a strand of white hair for emphasis.

He ducked away from her hand, but when he drew back up, his face had sobered. "I only saw her because of you," he said. He shrugged his right shoulder and raised a dark brow. "I'm only here now because of you, too."

No, no, no. She was not going to play the  _who did more sacrificing_  game with him, partly because she knew she would win that argument. Shiro was sitting there with one less limb than her, with his hand shaking from leftover tremors of his latest episode. Her own plight of not living up to her father's expectations couldn't begin to touch that.

He'd only been put in danger because of her own recklessness, and he was sitting here telling her this trip to Sam's lab was a petty detour. And it was, really, with everything that was going on. She needed to be devoting all of her time to finding Oriande, and anything else was a luxury. The war would not wait while she dallied around the countryside with her injured Paladin. She shuddered at how often her internal monologue was starting to sound like her father's voice.

"Princess?"

She flinched and looked up, blinking the blur out of her eyes. "Eat your soup," she told him, the words automatic. "And then we'll get some rest."

Allura made to turn away, but he grabbed her arm. She could feel the trembling in his fingers, from exhaustion or his condition she wasn't sure. When she met his gaze, she found a slice of grim humour.

"A crippled Champion guarding a deaf Oracle," he said, giving her a rueful smile. "We're both in the same boat, Princess."

She smiled back, even though she didn't want to. "I promise you we'll get you back up to full speed, even if it kills me," she said to him, doing him the honour of telling him the truth in return. "I can't do this without a… a trusted advisor."

He nodded and let his hand fall away. The echo of warmth from his fingers was an iron brand on her arm. She wanted him to do it again. She wanted him to do a lot more than that, really.

More luxuries she couldn't afford.

She settled instead for eating the rest of her meal beside him in contented silence. The rain beat a hard drum above them, but it was warm enough in the cabin from the hearth that the storm felt far away. Their shoulders brushed as they ate, and she soaked in the contact with succour.

Shiro was shaking again by the time they finished, but it was different now. The shudders were from the cold that had seeped into his bones, or perhaps the beginnings of a fever. She hoped to hell it was the former.

Allura cleared away the chair and their packs and pulled him a few feet away from the wall. He grunted at the jostling, though he could hardly stop it. "What are you—"

"I am exhausted," she said. "And so are you. Our cloaks are soaked through, and I am not going to let you get sick on top of everything else."

It took a not insignificant amount of energy to change form, even something as simple as stretching her bones to make herself larger. She did it anyway, suppressing a smile at Shiro's agoge stare. He'd seen her do it before, but humans never seemed to get used to the transformation, and the shock was more than worth the energy she expended.

"On your side," she instructed, rolling her shoulders to loosen the shirt that was now tight against her broad back. He was stunned into compliance, lying down on his left side among the pile of rugs she'd kicked towards them earlier. She curled herself up behind him, slotting her knees into the backs of his. An arm wove around his waist, and she ignored again how convenient the contact was with his right arm no longer in the way. As big as she was, she cleared his height by at least a head, enough for her to press her face into his hair. That sort of thing wasn't strictly necessary, but she felt him lean into the contact, and she grinned into his hair.

"Sleep, my Paladin," she whispered to him. He shivered at her breath. Or maybe the cold. She was too tired to tell. "We continue at dawn."

The thunder overhead drowned out his response, but she felt his fingers brush hers down by his abdomen, and she knew he would obey the order.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a shallura sideblog at [@rosaenero](https://rosaenero.tumblr.com/) if you're into the whole tumblr thing!


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